Return to the North
by HR always live on
Summary: Tyrion / Sansa fic, follows on from my story "Wedding Bells" and set 4 years after that. Winter is over and Tyrion and Sansa are leaving the rock to go to Winterfell and find out what's left of Sansa and Arya's old home. (I'm terrible at summary's!) Ch 12 up. Back after an unplanned hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**This is (mainly) a Tyrion / Sansa romance, which follows on from my story Wedding Bells, so it'll help if you've read that one first. This starts 4 years on from where WB finished. Enjoy.**

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**Sansa**

"Robb, stop fighting with your sister!" she called. The twins were four and a half and had the run of Casterly Rock. Blonde beauties who were identical. The only difference between them was that Maeri's hair had grown much longer than her brothers. Robb looked at his mother then let go of Maeri, who slapped her brother for good measure.

"Maeri, don't hit your brother!" Sansa shouted, grabbing her daughters hand to separate the two of them. They fought like cats and dogs, but if anyone came between the pair of them, they'd stick together like glue. Even at only four years old. Sansa was already dreading how wilful they could be as teenagers.

Sansa suddenly heard a cry, and she whipped around, recognising the sound of her youngest child in pain. Before she could even move, she saw Tyrion picking up Daeniel who seemed to have tripped over, falling on the ground. At three, Daeniel was really too cumbersome for Tyrion to carry, especially when the boy was wriggling like a fiend, and screaming loudly. Sansa quickly exchanged children, and comforted Daeniel until he was just whimpering.

"I fell mama…"

"I know sweetheart," she said gently. "Where's it hurt?"

"Hands," Daeniel snivelled, holding out his palms. They were a little grazed, but nothing too bad. Sansa kissed his palms gently.

"All better." Daeniel looked sceptical at that and she had to smile at her boy. Daeniel had a mass of dark black curls and dark brown eyes, almost black. He didn't really resemble either of his parents, so much as he looked like he could have been Robb Stark's son. Daeniel had the look of Sansa's brother very much.

"We have to leave," Tyrion said. "If we're to make any decent progress today."

"I know," she said. Sansa looked around, seeing the large train to make their progress northwards. Everyone was either bustling around with last minute packing, or sitting on their horses, looking bored at the interruption the children had given them to their departure.

"Daeniel, Tya will look after you," Sansa said firmly. Daeniel's bottom lip quivered as if he were about to cry. "You've got to go in the carriage. We're leaving," she added with a smile.

"'kay," Daeniel said with a sniff. Tya took Daeniel's hand, Robb and Maeri running to catch up. Sansa didn't envy Tya and her maids. Looking after three children under five on a long journey north was not for the faint hearted.

"Get me Ashi," she said, a note of command in her voice. She'd become used to being the Lady of Casterly Rock after the four year winter, and she knew how to give orders. And especially, how it felt to have them obeyed.

A guard brought her her snow white horse, and helped her into the saddle. She sat on her horse with joy. It felt good to be riding again.

Within ten minutes, they were off, their children safely ensconced in the carriage. Even at a sedate trot, she enjoyed riding. Her horse was a good tempered animal who'd become used to their children. She'd let them ride with her, but with three children it was difficult. They'd all want to ride, and there was no one she'd trust with her children atop a horse. Except Tyrion, but being a dwarf, it was hard enough for him to ride alone. She wouldn't embarrass him by asking.

They'd travelled a mile or two when Tyrion's horse appeared next to her. He rode a small bay horse, which wouldn't let anyone else except Tyrion ride him. Very temperamental horse, that one.

"You look beautiful, my lovely wife," he said quietly. She smiled at him, feeling the fresh Spring breeze across her face.

"Even with shorter hair?" she asked. After a long consideration, she'd cut it off, until the length just reached her breasts. She'd felt that a maidens hair didn't suit a respectable married woman, and while looking after three children, it did have a tendency to get in the way.

"You're beautiful," he repeated, eyes sparkling at her. "Do you know, I think I must be the envy of every Lord of the seven kingdoms. Rich, married to a beautiful woman and with everything I could ever want."

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"Most days," he said. "At least there's good Dornish wine." She smiled at that.

"And no war," she reminded him. "It's good. Not to be at war."

"Yes indeed," he agreed. "Though I'm going to miss Bron." Because there was minimal danger, and Bron hated to travel in slow trains, Tyrion hadn't asked him to join them. Instead he was to travel to Kings Landing and report back on the state of affairs there. The rumours, the supposed facts. What Littlefinger and Varys were doing, who shockingly enough had both wormed their way out of trouble and into the new Queen's favours. Daenerys still ruled, the hand of the Queen was Ser Barristan Selmy, though there were reports of his health failing. Hardly surprising at his age though. Bron would be useful there. After a few weeks, he was to ride North and join them at Winterfell. Tyrion didn't trust the ravens.

"Oh," he said, as if suddenly remembering. "You forgot this." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a fat pouch, the herbs almost spilling from it. There were several months worth in there.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, unable to believe that she'd forgotten it.

"Did you take the herbs this morning?"

"I take them every morning," she said quietly. He knew that. She saw a muscle in his jaw twitch and she suddenly felt like she'd been completely wrong footed. He didn't say anything though, but she could tell he was less than pleased. "Tyrion?" she asked, her voice pathetically quiet and timid.

"It's nothing," he said, in a tone which told her it was something. Something very important indeed.

"But…"

"We'll discuss it later," he said firmly. Before she could answer, he rode ahead of her, out of earshot. She debated catching up with him, but before she could turn, Arya appeared, racing to her. She had two rabbits hanging from a rope, and the wolf padding alongside her. She seemed pleased.

"Freshly caught this morning," she said proudly. Sansa looked at her sister contemplatively. Arya was now eighteen and had grown into a beautiful woman. But she still insisted on dressing in men's clothes, and hadn't let her hair grow beyond shoulder length. The time was coming when she was going to have to have a husband. The subject hadn't been brought up and Sansa was dreading it.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked, picking up on her sisters mood.

"Nothing."

"Sansa…" she said.

"I think Tyrion's upset with me," she admitted.

"Hmm," Arya said without adding anything more. Tyrion was not her favourite topic of conversation. She tolerated him, and didn't hate him, but asking for anything more was pushing it. There was too much past between their families, and Arya refused to let it go. No one demanded it of her either, for which she was grateful. Sansa's horse shied at the presence of the wolf, nervous with the predator. The wolf had changed allegiances and was now owned completely by Arya. Sansa had had her hands full with first two children, then three and (the wolf) Arya didn't appreciate small children. So she'd gone to her sister instead.

"Can you take the wolf away?" Sansa asked. "She doesn't like her," she added, stroking her horses mane gently.

"I'll catch up with you at the inn," Arya said, then raced away in the opposite direction to the train.

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**Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thank you for the reviews / follows / favourites! Here's the next bit in thanks.**

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**Sansa**

She hadn't undressed and had dismissed Briony for the night. In her private room in the inn she paced back and forth, waiting for her husband. He was much later than the inn accounted for, even with the ale and wine. She knew there was a brothel less than a mile away and for the first time in her marriage, she really feared that her husband might be with a whore. She hadn't worried that he'd broken his word before, but he was clearly upset but didn't want to talk about it with her. It must be something to do with the herbs she was taking. That was where the conversation this morning had been cut short. They were an (apparently effective) form of contraception, and she'd been taking them since Daeniel's birth. And he'd known about it, not seeming the least bit upset about it at the time. Clearly that had changed.

Many wives accepted that their noble blooded husbands visited whores, but she wasn't one of them. It was different when the marriage was a union of families, and there was no affection, but it hadn't been like that with Tyrion for a very long time.  
She kept pacing, becoming angrier and more worried as time went on. The candle guttered and she hurried to light another one. She turned to the door and saw Tyrion standing in the shadows.

"Where've you been?" she asked, trying to keep the demand in her voice to a minimum.

"I went for a walk," he said. He wasn't slurring his words, so he wasn't drunk. Or not very drunk anyway.

"For two hours?"

"I needed fresh air," he said.

"There's a brothel down the road," she said, unable to find the energy or the words to make it subtle.

"I didn't go to a brothel Sansa," he said. She instinctively knew he was telling the truth and felt a lessening of the tension inside her. She couldn't have him visiting whores, it would hurt her too much.

"Good," she said. She sat down on the bed, and felt absurdly close to tears. Her eyes were cast down on her skirts so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Sansa." She looked at her husband, unsure of what emotion was on his face. It wasn't anger though, she knew that much. He squeezed her hand tightly and a small smile flickered over her face. "We need to talk about this."

"You want more children," she said. "And yes. We do need to talk about it."

"Of course I want more children," he said. "I thought you did too."

"I do," she said honestly. "Eventually. I didn't realise you wanted more now."

"After Daeniel was born I did think it was a good idea," Tyrion said. "You seemed… to get pregnant rather easily." She rolled her eyes at that, because that was certainly an understatement. "But it's been three years since our last child. More. I thought… I wondered if you were going to stop taking it."

"It would be nice for you to ask me, rather than ignore me all day," she said pointedly.

"Yes, I suppose it would," he agreed.

"Not yet," she said. "If I end up pregnant now, I'll probably end up giving birth on the road home, or having to give birth at Winterfell alone. Because you'll have gone back to the Rock. I don't want to be that far away from you… in case the worst happens."

"You carry relatively easily," Tyrion said. That was the wrong thing to say. Sansa made a fortunate grab and squeezed, making him hiss in pain.

"Now, imagine squeezing a seven pound melon out of your body and how much that hurts."

"Bad choice of words," he said. "Let go. Please." She did, a smirk on her face.

"Not yet," she said. "I want another child, but not yet."

"Okay." He looked at her, still dressed. "Turn and let me undo your laces." She smiled, and did, enjoying the touch of her husbands fingers on her back.

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**Arya**

She'd fallen asleep in her room at the inn very quickly. But she awoke in the middle of the night to Arya growling at the window. "What is it?" she asked the wolf. Nothing but a low rumbling growl. Then she heard it. There was a regular tap on her window, as if stones were being thrown to grab her attention. Hurriedly, she put some clothes on, then opened the shutters, ducking to avoid a pebble which clattered on the floor. She looked into the darkness, recognising the shadow and she smiled. "That could have hit me!" she hissed. She could hear nothing, but knew he'd be smiling.

"Be quiet Arya," she said to the wolf. "It's all right." She shimmied out of the window and carefully scaled down the wall of the inn. She'd been sleeping on the second floor, but there was a very helpful ivy plant growing up the side. Soon enough, she had her feet on solid ground and she ran to the shadow under the tree.

"What in seven hells are you doing here?" she asked. He didn't reply with words, instead he kissed her. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around him. He was cold, and had been outside for a while, but his hands around her were so welcome. He drew back after a long embrace.

"Well, I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye, could I?"

"Tom…"she started. He cut her off.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "What you are. Who you are."

"It doesn't matter what my last name is," she said, casting that aside.

"You're a lady," he insisted.

"So what?" she said. "It doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?" Tom asked. The silence around them was heavy with meaning, broken only by the quiet random sounds from the inn. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked.

"Of course you will," she said from instinct.

"Now tell me the truth," he said quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "I want to. But nothing in this life is certain."

"Oh, Arya…" he said sadly.

"I know," she said.

"If I'd have known, I wouldn't have…"

"What?" she asked. "You wouldn't have what?"

"You wouldn't… you shouldn't have been anywhere near me."

"Why? Because you're a sheep farmer?" she asked. "Why do you even think it matters to me?"

"It should," he said fairly.

"It doesn't."

"You're so stubborn," he said with pleasure and amusement, not criticism.

"I know," she agreed. "I don't want to go back to Winterfell. I did for so long, but not now. I want to stay in Lannisport with you. But I can't run," she said. "Not from my sister, my family. Not again."

"I know that," he said. "Sister of Lady Lannister. Who'd have thought it of a rough, dirty common girl like you?"

"Oi!" she said. He laughed, a wonderful sound which had her smiling even when she didn't want to.

"Nothing wrong with being common," he said, stroking her hair softly.

"It was the rough and dirty I objected to," she said gently.

"Come here," he murmured. She kissed him tenderly and bitter sweetly. It was going to be months until she next saw him and she would miss him terribly. "Arya?"

"What?"

"Come back," he whispered, trying to hide his urgency. "Please."

"I will," she said. "My wolf will need to steal another sheep after all." He smiled and kissed her again.

"Go. Be the lady of Winterfell. Just come back."

"Just don't go anywhere," Arya countered. "Goodbye Tom," she said. He watched her as she climbed back up the wall. She fell in a heap on the floor to Arya who quietly licked her face. "He'll have a nice sheep waiting for you when we come back south," she told the wolf. "I promise."

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**More soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sansa**

The weeks on the road slowly passed. They'd settled into a routine, getting up early and riding their horses for a few miles, up to twenty depending on the weather until they settled for the night at an inn. Now that war had gone and the winter had loosened its grip on them, inns were a flourishing business once again. They hadn't yet had to struggle finding a bed for the night, much to Sansa's relief. Sleeping in tents on the hard ground with three children under five didn't fill her with joy.

They'd left Casterly Rock by the River road, and after that headed north on the Kingsroad. After years of danger, it was wonderful to be able to travel freely. Sansa alternated between riding her horse and riding in the carriage with her children.

One day when they were reaching the Neck, Sansa stopped her horse. She was riding with Maeri, who had a harness attached to her mother in case she lost her grip on the horse. Sansa had an arm protectively around her daughter as she looked over the rise they'd just climbed. Below them, looking almost picture perfect were the Twins. Where the late Walder Frey had viciously butchered her brother and her mother at a wedding feast. Sansa had never seen the place they died. Now she was looking at it, it seemed horribly normal.

At the moment, Walton Frey was in residence, after a hefty fine from Danerys, which he was still paying off. Walder Frey hadn't accepted Daenerys as Queen, probably not believing a woman could hold Westeros, and he'd paid for it with his life. So had his sons, who'd also refused to acknowledge her and raised a very brief and bloody rebellion involving the deaths of Walder Frey's sons. So Walton Frey was a very meek twenty year old who didn't want to step out of line, which Sansa thought, was probably why Daenerys had allowed him to keep the Twins. It was convenient to have someone who'd do what she wanted.

She sighed as she looked at the building. How could it look so normal? Not the horrendous place where Tywin Lannister had ordered her family's death. Her father in law. Even though he was dead, it still hurt, and at this moment, she was angry with Tyrion. She felt rational enough to know it wasn't his fault, but the anger kept seeping through her.

"Mama?" She looked down at Maeri whose wide blue eyes were staring at her. Sansa forced a smile and ruffled her daughters blonde locks gently. "Why we stop?"

"I'm just thinking, sweetheart," she said gently.

"Can we move?" Maeri said. "Go horsey, go!"

"Yes, we can move," Sansa said. On impulse she turned away from the train and rode towards the Twins. She had no reason, just felt the need to be closer to the place her mother was murdered.

"Sansa!" She heard her husband call her name, but she didn't stop to turn and explain. She just rode like the wind, Maeri giggling and shrieking with delight as the landscape parted in front of them.

* * *

She stopped when she was much, much closer. She could actually hear noises from the castle now, carried there on the wind. The clink of swords from the armoury, the neigh of a horse which made her own mount, Ashi twitch nervously, hearing horses she couldn't see.

"Mama?" Maeri said, now that they'd stopped again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just… nothing." They both heard the sound of a horse coming up behind them, but Sansa didn't turn around. She knew it would be someone coming to drag her back to the train heading northwards. Probably Tyrion.

"Dada!" Maeri said, seeing her father. Maeri held her arms out for him to take her, but he didn't while on the horse. "Dada?" she asked, blue eyes wide at her father saying no to her.

Tyrion had no resistance to that look from his daughter, and everyone knew it. He smiled slightly and threw the reins of his horse to Sansa as he clumsily got off the horse, landing undignified in the dirt. He shook himself and reached for Maeri. Sansa had untied the harness around her daughter, and Maeri was so eager to be held by her father that she almost jumped off the horse and winded Tyrion.

"Oof," he breathed as she squealed in his arms. Sansa smiled as their daughter gave every appearance of not seeing her father in months, rather than an hour or two.

"Anyone would think she's never going to see you again," Sansa said.

"The way this world works, one time she won't," Tyrion said darkly. Sansa looked at him, before sliding down off her horse, keeping a tight grip on both sets of reins. She knew where his melancholy thoughts were coming from, the building they were looking at.

"I had to… see it," she said.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"They died here," she said. "What had my mother ever done to warrant having her throat cut?"

_Mother of the King of the North_, Tyrion thought. _Mother of a rebel,_ but he wasn't stupid enough to say it.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Your father did this," she said. "He may not of stabbed Robb, but it was on his orders."

"Robb?" Maeri said, recognising her brothers name.

"Robb's fine," Tyrion assured her, holding her closely. "And yes," he said to his wife. "It was. Disgraceful too." Sansa kept looking at the Twins. "Come back to the train," he said.

"I will," she said.

"Now," he said firmly. "We're falling behind, and staring at this building won't bring your family back."

Sansa sighed with her whole heart. "I have my family," she said, smiling at him and he felt his heart in his throat with the way she looked at him. "I just miss them. We should go," she added.

"Can you…?" Tyrion nodded to the horse and she knew what he was saying. She helped him up into the saddle, then gave him Maeri.

"Just hold her for a minute while I jump up," she said, clambering into her own saddle with a little more grace than her husband had. After a little manoeuvring they got Maeri in Sansa's arms again, wearing the harness.

"Come on," Tyrion said. "Lets catch up to the others." She turned her horse and did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tyrion**

Within an hour they caught up to the others and Tyrion smiled at his son, sitting atop a horse on his own. Arya held the reins tightly, and was smiling at the boy. "He wanted to copy Maeri," she said.

"Dada, look at me!" Robb said eagerly, almost bouncing up and down on the fortunately good tempered horse.

"Well done," Tyrion said with pride. "You look like a proper little knight." Robb laughed with pleasure and he felt such pride in his son. Soon he'd have to have someone teach Robb to properly handle a sword. At four and a half it was about time he started to learn. Jaime had begun at under three, he seemed to remember. Tyrion didn't really know how to handle a sword. Embarrassingly when he'd been a child the longest weapon he'd been allowed to handle was a long dagger. He'd only learnt for a few months, before it became clear that people had been laughing at him, comparing him with Jaime. Then he'd lost all enthusiasm for it, and his father hadn't pushed it either, ashamed of him. No matter how well or poorly his son was with weapons, he would never make him feel ashamed or unwanted. That he vowed to himself.

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**Arya**

She lay sleepless, tossing and turning. They were at Moat Cailin and it would be the most comfortable bed they had for a while, considering Winterfell was rubble. But she couldn't sleep and she knew exactly why. Though that wasn't helping her right now. She rolled over yet again, trying to get more comfortable, then smiled when the wolf joined her. The wolf looked at her with wide eyes. "I'm all right," she said, only half true. "Go to sleep." She wished she could take her own advice.

After an hour, she gave up, and left the inn. Maybe a walk would clear her head. It wouldn't get rid of her problem though. The gentle sounds of the inn faded behind her as she walked away.

Before they left the rock, she'd suspected she might be pregnant, but now after so many weeks on the road, there was no doubt. And she had no idea what to do. She hadn't confided in anyone, and she certainly hadn't planned it. She'd always been a little… wild, never sticking to the pointless rules that Sansa had so determinedly adhered to. She didn't see the point and had always done what she wanted to, never wanting to be a proper lady. And now it had come back to haunt her.

She didn't want a baby. She had no idea what to do with children, she never had. Maeri and Robb were just now the age she could handle. You could actually talk to them, but Arya had no idea how she would cope with a newborn screaming baby. Added to that, the fact that she'd be demeaned as a whore, and no one would ever marry her. Not that she particularly cared about that, but it did hurt to know that from now on she'd be relying on her sisters goodwill, rather than ever have a home of her own. What in seven hells was she going to do?

She was eighteen, a lady by birth, unmarried and pregnant with Tom River's bastard. What in the name of all the Gods was she going to do?

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**Sansa**

She awoke earlier than normal, to Tyrion kissing her neck and she smiled as she wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. Her fingertips reached bare skin and she smiled, realising he was already naked as his hands started pulling at her shift.

"Morning," she said sleepily.

"Sh," he replied gently, before kissing her lips. She smiled as her hand ran through his hair, their bodies pressed together. "We don't have to get going soon?" she asked. She wanted to enjoy this time with her husband.

"We've got a good half an hour," he murmured. "Maybe longer before we're disturbed." She smiled widely at him, then moaned as his talented fingers slid over her sensitive skin.

They weren't nearly finished when there was a knock on their door. As one, Tyrion and Sansa said nothing and ignored it. Sansa started to laugh quietly as he kissed her in a ticklish spot. The knock came again, and the door opened.

"Sansa, I need to talk…" They broke apart to see Arya in the doorway, staring at them with wide eyes. Sansa grabbed a bed sheet to cover them up, but it was rather too late.

"I'll just…" Arya said, turning around and racing away, leaving the door ajar. Sansa groaned, staring at the ceiling, feeling absurdly embarrassed. She'd done nothing wrong. Sleeping with her husband wasn't against any rules, yet she felt as red faced as she would have five years ago.

"I need to go and talk to her," Sansa said.

"Why?" Tyrion asked with a lazy smile. "We're not doing anything wrong," he added, echoing her thoughts.

"I know, but when's the last time Arya said she needed to talk to me?" Sansa said. "Let alone this early in the morning. It must be important."

Tyrion nodded once in agreement. She had a point. Sansa looked at the open door and wondered if she dare make a quick dash to close it, naked as she was, when Tyrion saved her the trouble. He turned to face her and she looked at him, thinking.

"I want to stay in bed with you," she admitted.

"Tonight," he said. "When you don't have an errant sister to deal with."

She smiled. "Can you help me do up my laces?" she asked, getting up and starting to put her dress on. "I need to find her."

"I'd rather undress you," Tyrion said, smiling. "But I suppose I can do laces up just as well as undoing them."

* * *

It didn't take her long to find her sister. After a quick look in the inn, she realised Arya wasn't there, and that she'd left both her wolf and her horse. So she couldn't have gone far. She had a look outside and found Arya in a secluded glade, her feet in the small river stream.

"Hello," Sansa said, announcing her presence. She didn't want to sit on the earth and ruin her dress, but standing towering over her sister who was clearly upset wasn't ideal either. She compromised by crouching down, so only the hem ended up in the dirt. It was a travelling dress anyway, she said to herself. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"I want to talk to you," Arya said, looking at the water.

"Yes, I guessed that from the way you barged in to our room," Sansa said lightly.

"I'm sorry," Arya said, meaning it. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I heard you talking and assumed you were awake. I didn't think further than that."

"So I assumed," Sansa said. She wasn't going to apologise for what her sister had walked in on, even though her cheeks glowed red a little. "What's wrong? You've not been yourself for weeks." Arya said nothing, but Sansa looked at her critically. Her usual thin and skinny self wasn't really there any more. It wasn't that she'd got fat, it was more a softening around the edges. Her face seemed fuller than usual and there were dark circles under her eyes. Sansa took a shot at what might be bothering her. "Oh. How far gone are you?"

Arya's head snapped towards her, eyes wide and Sansa knew her guess was right. She hoped she was successful in hiding her surprise that her baby sister was pregnant.

"Two months," Arya said after a moment. "Maybe a bit more. Don't ask who…"

"I wasn't going to," Sansa said. There was an uncomfortable silence and eventually Sansa broke it. "Was it… rape?"

"No!" Arya said in surprise. Sansa believed her, because from the look on her face, rape had never entered her mind. "I stole some of your herbs," Arya said. "They didn't work."

"You have to take them every day," Sansa said lightly. "Not just the day when you're going to…"

Arya shrugged. "I didn't know that!" She looked shocked, then shrugged, looking back at the water. "Too late now anyway," she said dispassionately.

"What are you going to do?" Sansa asked.

"I don't know," Arya said. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"I can't magically fix this," she said.

"I know," Arya replied. "But as much as we're different people, you're the sensible one. The one who does everything right. The way she's supposed to."

"I don't have a solution," Sansa said. "Oh Arya…" Her strong tough sister's eyes were brimming with tears she was too stubborn to let fall. She put an arm around her little sister, holding her close.

"I don't know what to do!" she said.

"I know," Sansa soothed. "We'll think of something."

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**Thank you for the reviews for the first few chapters. More soon.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Tyrion**

He found his wife and his sister in law sitting by the river, embracing. He coughed to attract their attention, and they both turned in surprise. What made Tyrion freeze was the fact it was obvious Arya had been crying. In four years, he'd never seen her anywhere even close to tears. But now, her eyes and face were wet. "I'll go and get my horse," she said, rubbing her face on her sleeve and leaving quickly, brushing past him in her haste to leave.

"What's going on?" he asked, feeling like he was missing something important.

"I'll tell you later," Sansa said, moving to go past her. He grabbed her wrist, not letting her.

"Talk to me," he said, voice low and pleading. He didn't like it when his wife lied to him, even by omission. She lowered herself almost to her knees so she could look directly into his eyes.

"Tyrion, I will," she said. "I just don't want to do it where people can overhear." As if on cue, there was a loud noise coming from the brush and two guards appeared, quickly vanishing when they saw Lord and Lady Lannister. "Come with me and ride away from the train," she said. "Where we can have some privacy." He nodded in agreement and they went back to the inn to saddle their horses.

* * *

"Mama, up!" Robb said, holding his arms out.

"Not today," Sansa said as Tyrion watched them. "You rode your own yesterday. Want to try again?"

"No," Robb said, sticking out his bottom lip petulantly. "Too slow." Sansa laughed at him.

"With practice, you can make your horse go faster," she promised. "Let Aunt Arya help you."

"No. Want you, mama," Robb said. She sighed, and Tyrion knew she wanted the children occupied so they could be alone.

"Robb, if you look after Aunt Arya all day, there might be some lemon cakes at the next inn for you," he said. His sons eyes went as round as saucers and he smiled. Robb was the only one of her children who shared her love of lemon cakes. Even his twin didn't like them.

"Auntie, auntie!" he yelled, running through the crowd, looking for Arya. "Help me ride today!" he said happily when he'd found her. Both Sansa and Tyrion watched as the boy jumped up and down. "Up, up!" Robb said.

"Come on then," Arya said, lifting the boy to the child sized saddle. He grinned widely and watched as Arya swung herself up to her own horse and quickly grabbed both sets of reins.

"Mama, look at me!"

"Well done," Sansa said. Daeniel was sleeping, the travel exhausted him and Maeri was with Tya, having her hair braided and rebraided, which she enjoyed when her brothers were occupied.

"Let's go," she said to him, jumping into her horses saddle. He followed her, realising that he'd follow his red headed beautiful wife anywhere, even down into the seven hells. He loved her so much.

* * *

They tied their horses up by an abandoned windmill, truly alone for the first time in weeks. The windmill had almost fallen down, but still standing through some miracle.

"What's going on?" Tyrion asked, sitting on the grass.

"Arya's pregnant," Sansa said without preamble.

"What?" he asked blankly. Out of everything she could have possibly said, he'd have thought that possibility came a lot farther down the list. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Sansa said, smiling without humour. "Take a moment and look at her next time you see her. She's not as reed thin as she used to be. And I know because I asked her."

"Who's the father?" he asked, getting over the first flourish of shock.

"I don't know," Sansa said.

"You didn't ask?" He'd have thought that'd be the first question.

"If I had, do you really think she'd tell me?" Sansa asked, smiling sadly. The Spring sunlight was glinting off of her red hair, and he moved closer to her, to stroke her locks. She smiled at his touch but said nothing, just moving her head closer to him. "I'm guessing he's low born though. Just her manner. If he'd been a lord, even a minor one, she'd have been saying that she doesn't want to get married very loudly and often."

"That's true," Tyrion said, still stroking her soft hair. "Is she happy?"

"No," Sansa said. "Terrified. She doesn't want a baby either."

"I know she's your sister, and I hate to bring this up…"

"But…" Sansa said, waiting for it.

"She's wild. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. What are we going to do with her? And now with a baby…"

"Maybe we could… foster the child," she suggested. "We've got three already, what's one more?"

"No," Tyrion said, before he'd thought it through properly.

"We could," she said. "Bring him or her up with our children. Arya's baby would be their cousin anyway. No matter who the father is."

"And how would we explain a child popping up from nowhere?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, looking at the ground. He knew his wife, and he could read her like a book. He knew what she was thinking.

"Sansa, no," he said.

"Why not?" she said, red faced.

"I am not going to tell the world that I fathered a bastard when I've done no such thing," he said firmly.

"Why?" she asked. "I was brought up with Jon."

"And how did that make you feel?" he asked. It brought her up short, because any of her emotions in regards to that hadn't been good. "Regardless of that, I refuse to shame you in public that way."

"But I would know the truth," she said.

"And our children. How will they feel? In a year? Five. Ten? They'll hate their bastard brother or sister. They'll hate me for betraying their mother. You know they will."

"It doesn't have to be like that," she said, but the conviction had faded from her voice.

"Sansa, I'm not saying I won't take in Arya's child," he said. "But that is not the lie we tell to protect her name. That lie could cause all sorts of rifts in our family."

"So… if she wants to, you'll think of a lie we can tell?"

"About a foster child," Tyrion said. "Yes. But not a bastard. I wouldn't do that to you. Even as a lie."

"Okay," she agreed. "I haven't even brought this up with her. She might not want this. I just don't know what else to do."

"It'll all work itself out," Tyrion said. He stroked her hair again and almost missed her words.

"I didn't take the herbs this morning," she whispered.

"Oh?"

"No," she said. "We'll… see what happens." He pulled Sansa close and kissed her deeply. They only broke apart when the sound of horses hooves approaching disturbed them. They turned and Tyrion was shocked as he saw a horse with not one but two of his children on it.

"Dada!"

"Just what do you two think you're up to?" he asked.

Maeri giggled, her blonde hair flying out behind her, Robb had a matching grin on his face.

"You two!" Sansa yelled, and he could hear the fear in her voice. "What in the name of the seven do you think you're doing?!"

"Riding mama," Maeri said as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

"And where does your guard think you are?" Tyrion said. If they'd both learnt to escape from a dozen watchful eyes, they'd have to be even more careful over their twins. The mischief from their three children would be well and truly beginning if they'd learnt to give guards the slip.

"We… jumped on the horse," Robb said with the slyest look a four year old could manage.

"It's fun dada," Maeri contributed.

"You two don't run away from the people who're protecting you," Sansa said, but her voice didn't hold a threat. "You both could have fallen off the horse and broken your necks."

The twins as one ignored this and Tyrion had to hold back a laugh at their behaviour. Those two were going to be trouble. Are, he said to himself. Those two **_are_** trouble.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you for the reviews so far.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sansa**

They were one long day from Winterfell when they stopped for the night. Hopefully they'd arrive tomorrow. She hadn't spoken to Arya about her pregnancy since that brief conversation in the glade, but every time she laid eyes on her sister, she seemed sad and not in the mood for talking about the baby. Maybe when they returned home, she'd be more open. Home. Sansa was so close now, to the place she hadn't seen since she was thirteen years old.

The night before, she couldn't sleep. She was too anxious and excited to see home, even if it were a burnt wreckage. In the early hours of the morning, Tyrion turned over and looked at her. A sliver of moonlight came in the window, enough to see his face by. "Sleep," he said.

"I can't," she said. "I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I'm so close now."

"Do you miss it?" he asked quietly, starting to stroke her hair. "Winterfell. The north."

"Not as much as I did," she said. "Everyone's childhood ends, it's only mine happened a little abruptly. What I want from Winterfell is what I can't have. I want the people back. I want my family back." Tyrion felt the sting of her words, and she could see it in his face. After all, years had now passed and she had a family once again. With him. "Not that I don't love you," she said softly. "Or adore our three children. Within a year, my father, my mother and my brother had been murdered, two of my brothers and my sister lost… it was a lot to cope with at the time."

"I know," he said gently. "I'd swap my sister if it gave you back your relatives."

"I know," Sansa said. "How is Cersei? Have you heard from her?"

"Not since she left our dungeon to join the Silent Sisters," Tyrion said. "She hasn't even written, and she must have heard of Daeniel's birth. Years since."

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling like she had to apologise. Cersei valued her life above everything else, with the possible exception of her children. Daenerys had offered her a way to stay alive for a little while longer, and she'd greedily taken it, though Cersei Lannister as a Silent Sister was hard to imagine.

"Don't be," Tyrion said. "I don't believe she really would have killed either of the twins, but that knife was too close for me to ever forgive. She's evil. Or maybe not quite that strong. Wicked, maybe."

"Mm," Sansa agreed. She reached for him and held him against her body, taking comfort from him. With him being small, it could have been awkward between them, but it never was. Maybe because she'd never been with another man, but it always felt right with him. He kissed the hollow of her neck and she smiled. His touch felt wonderful.

"I've not heard from the Queen recently either," he murmured. "She still hasn't married."

"I don't blame her," Sansa said, closing her eyes as Tyrion's hands skimmed her skin. He looked at her in confusion, so she elaborated. "If she married, she'd have to share her power with a husband. And she doesn't need to marry strategically either. I can see her wanting to enjoy her throne alone for a little while longer."

"Oh. I'm sure it has nothing to do with her pet sellsword," Tyrion said darkly.

"Daario?"

"Mm," he said. "Having an affair with him could be dangerous if it goes wrong. She must have been sleeping with him since before she gained the throne. That's a long time. Four years or more. If it all goes wrong, or she gets pregnant, may the Gods forbid it, her nice little bubble is going to burst uncomfortably. She needs the support of the Lords of Westeros to keep her comfortable throne which she spent so many years fighting for. Without it, we'll descend into war again."

"You seem well informed on whom the Queen is sleeping with," Sansa said with a raised eyebrow.

"I need to be informed to protect our family," he said pointedly.

"You were a good hand of the King," she said. "It didn't benefit me at the time, but you were good at the double talk and the scheming."

"I was," he agreed with a note of pride in his voice.

"Do you miss King's Landing?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Yes," he admitted. "I wouldn't give up what I have now for the capital, but I do miss outsmarting the snakes. It was fun and dangerous. I didn't need to be physically different either. It was a job I could do as a dwarf."

"You're not a dwarf," she said simply.

"What am I then?" he asked with a smile.

"You're mine." He smiled before kissing her deeply. "Make love to me until dawn," she whispered with a smile. He did.

* * *

**Arya**

She can hear the sounds of her sister and brother in law having sex through the thin wall of the inn, but it isn't that that's kept her from sleep. Not tonight. She hasn't even undressed and got into bed yet. Since she retired to her room, she lit the candles, took out her ink, quill and parchment and sat at her desk, thinking what in seven hells she should write. That had been hours ago, and only one word has appeared on the parchment. _Tom_.

There was absolutely no good way to write this, but she knew she had to try. Anyway, it didn't matter how she said it, just that she did. He needed to know about the baby growing inside her. She dipped her quill again and began to write, with many pauses, getting it all out.

_Tom,_

_Look, there's no good way to tell you this, especially in a letter, but I'm going to give it a try. I'm pregnant. Those words look enormous, written blackly on the page, but there it is. It's yours, by the way. I know you wouldn't ask if you're the father, because you'd believe me. I don't know what I'm going to do, though I feel that the baby may be fostered by my sister and her husband. It's in the air, I can feel it._

_I'm not telling you because I expect anything at all, but I needed to tell you and you need to know. I'll be at Winterfell soon, maybe tomorrow. I miss you. The north is colder than I remember and I want to be in Lannisport with you, jumping into the ocean, spearing fish, catching rabbits to feed to Arya. I hope those days haven't gone forever. I will see you again, soon._

_Arya._

She read it again, considered it suitable under the circumstances and set some wax over the candle to melt. She had plenty of time, and sleep felt like a stranger to her tonight. Eventually the wax melted into a pool and she sealed the letter, pressing her mothers signet ring into it, the Tully sigil seemingly bright in the dim light. It was the only possession she owned of her mothers, and it seemed suitable now that she was going to become a mother herself. The thought felt like ice slipping into her stomach.

Once the wax seal cooled, she left her room and went down to the inns rookery, and found a raven. She woke the bird up and attached the letter. "Find him," she said lowly. She let the bird fly out of the open window and watched him go, only visible for a minute or two, until the brief moonlight lost the bird to blackness. "I'm sorry for the shock," she said to the darkness. Because it would be a shock to him. It had been for her when she'd realised. She sighed, leaning on the windowsill before going back to her bedroom.

* * *

**More soon. Thanks for the follows, favourites and especially reviews!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Tyrion**

They'd intended to leave for Winterfell the next morning, but they never left the inn. In the morning they had something else to think about. After breakfast, when they were saddling the horses and getting ready to leave a horse approached them from the distance. Tyrion and Sansa turned and watched the distant horse get closer. Whoever was riding it was pushing their mount hard. They wanted to get here fast.

"Who…?" Sansa said.

"No idea," he said, watching. He couldn't leave before the horse got to the inn. He had a feeling that whoever it was, was racing to meet up with them. He turned and looked at Sansa, smiling. "Put your cloak on. It may be Spring, but it's still chilly." She smiled at his concern for her, and fastened her riding cloak around her shoulders.

_No,_ Tyrion thought. _It can't be..._ Now the rider was closer, he recognised her. He wished fervently it wouldn't be, but it was. Shae. And someone else he didn't recognise was also on the horse.

"Is that…" Sansa said quietly. "It is. It's Shae, my old handmaiden." Sansa was smiling at her old friend, but Tyrion had a feeling that smile wouldn't last for long. He had a horrible feeling of foreboding and he had a vague idea where this was going. The other person on the horse was small. A child.

Shae pulled her exhausted horse to a stop and jumped down. "Hello Tyrion," she said. Reaching up, she grabbed her child and safely took him off the horse, putting him on the ground. Everyone in the vicinity looked at Shae's boy and it was as if the air around them all had frozen, everyone staring at the child. The five year old dwarf who looked at them all blankly. Tyrion could feel Sansa's eyes boring into the back of his head and had nothing to say to her.

"I thought you might want to meet your son," Shae said, smiling at him, a hand on the dwarf boy. Still no one moved as the moments of shock ticked by. They were all staring at the child, feeling like the earth had just moved drastically under their feet. Sansa was the first one to break the moment. Tyrion looked at her and felt so sad and a little guilty. She looked as white as a sheet, her red hair in marked contrast to her colourless face. Sansa wasn't looking at him though, just staring at the new additions to their travelling party. She turned and grabbed the reins of her horse, walking briskly away, determinedly not looking at her husband. Everyone watched her leave, even as she did it with dignity.

"Maeri! Robb!" she called. The two of them appeared, with Daeniel. Tyrion watched as she crouched down in front of all her children. "Do you three want to go on an adventure today?" she asked, feigning happiness. Their children bought her facade.

"Yes mama!" they chanted eagerly.

"Come on then," she said. She picked up her children one at a time, putting them on the horse. She tightened their harnesses and then jumped up behind them. The horse snorted at the extra weight, but luckily obliged.

"Sansa," Tyrion said quietly. She didn't even look at him. The children did, smiling at him, but then she kicked her horse, racing off, kicking up the dust as she took their children into the distance.

* * *

Sansa

"Where are we going mama?" Daeniel asked, wedged tightly between the horses neck and his sister Maeri behind him.

"I don't know," Sansa said. She saw a stream she recognised from her childhood and smiled. Whenever they wanted to go far from Winterfell, Arya would steal a horse, and she'd pretend to not want to go, not want to run away from the castle. But really, she'd be just as delighted as Arya and jump on the horse with little protest. Sometimes Jon had come with them, sometimes Robb. "Want to get wet?" she asked her kids.

"The sea?" Maeri asked eagerly. Sansa smiled at her children's innocent joy. They all knew how to swim, probably before they could even walk properly. Leaving on the oceans edge, she never wanted them to be in danger from the water. She'd taught them in the warm dragon pool in Casterly Rock, with Tyrion. They'd shared some wonderful family moments in that hot indoor pool, but she pushed the thought aside forcefully. She couldn't think of Tyrion right now.

"No, the sea's quite a way from us right now. There's a river though," she said. Sansa directed the horse to where she'd visited a lifetime ago with her siblings. She knew the current wasn't strong there. The river flowed into a natural pool which had almost no noticeable current at all, before flowing back down gently. It would be safe enough for her children.

Finding the place, she led the horse under the canopy of trees and the kids gasped. By the river there was still snow on the ground, the sun unable to reach it to melt it. "Stop horse!" Robb said, with a note of demand in his voice Sansa was surprised to hear. Turning into a right little Lord.

Sansa drew the horse to a stop. "Don't move," she said firmly as she dismounted. The kids stayed still for two minutes much to her relief. She got Daeniel down first, knowing he was less likely to cause havoc without the other two. Then she grabbed the twins, wriggling as she put them on the slushy snow. Within minutes an impromptu snowball fight had broken out between the three of them, Robb and Daeniel against Maeri it seemed. She reached into the horses saddle bags, taking out an apple and feeding it to the horse. "Well done," she murmured, stroking him. "Thanks for not throwing any of my children off." Giving her horse a final pat, Sansa took off her boots and sat on the stony riverbank on a snow free patch. She dipped her feet into the cold river and watched her children with joy. Whatever else happened, they were healthy and happy.

She watched with a smile as the inevitable happened. Eventually Maeri seemed to have won the snowball fight, leading to Daeniel and Robb arguing between themselves whose fault it was that a girl had beat them. Robb picked up his younger brother and pushed him into the river, leading to giggles and shrieks from all three of them. Maeri smiled, and pushed her brother in too, before diving in herself.

"It's cold mama!" she said.

"It'll warm up," Sansa said. She knew the longer you stayed in the water, the less cold it seemed.

* * *

**More soon! Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Tyrion**

He could hear the laughter and happy screaming of his children five minutes before he saw them. He urged the horse on and found his family playing in the river, Sansa sat on the riverbank, her back stiff and her face away from him. He dismounted, then tied up the horse next to Sansa's mount. He sat down next to her, but she didn't move or even acknowledge him.

"If you wanted to run from me, taking three loud children isn't the way to do it," he said gently.

"If I wanted to run from you, I'd steal your money, a lot more food than I have and a faster horse than Ashi who's used to being slow and gentle with our three children," she said easily. He felt a thrill of fear at how she'd thought it through. _Leaving him_. "I wanted peace, I wanted time to think and I wanted to spend time with the only people in my life who've never lied to me."

He felt the criticism in her voice, and knew he deserved it. "Is that… child yours?"

"I don't know," he said.

"But he could be," Sansa pressed.

"Yes," he said heavily. "He could be."

"How long were you sleeping with my handmaiden?" she asked, looking at her fingernails. "How long was I completely blind to what my husband was doing?"

"You didn't love me then," he said, reminding her. "I was nothing to you then."

"You lied to me. Even by omission, you lied to me."

"Yes," he said. "Shae is… was my whore. Before I married you," he added, feeling her drift away from him. "Since the day we stood in the sept, I've had no woman in my bed but you."

He saw her shoulders relax a very small fraction. "How long?"

"How long what?" he asked, not following her.

"How long were you keeping a whore for your own personal use? How long was my hand maiden sleeping with my future husband?"

"A couple of years," he admitted. "I pushed her into your service so people wouldn't find out what she was to me."

"Oh for Gods sake Tyrion!" she said, shaking her head. "Do you know how much that hurts?"

"You didn't care about me then," he said, pressing the point.

"No, but you've had years to tell me the truth. To let me find out by Shae turning up a mere ten miles from my childhood home with your bastard in tow… It would have been nice to have a little warning."

"The first I knew that she'd been pregnant was two hours ago, when she got off the horse."

For the first time, Sansa looked at him. "Did you really not know?"

"No," he said. "At the time she left I was more concerned about you and Joffrey than wondering if the woman I used to be sleeping with might be pregnant." She bit her lip, seeming to accept that, and he felt a slight lessening of the tension deep inside.

"Do you know what the worst thing is?" she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "When this gets out, and it will, no one will think those three beautiful children in the river are legitimate. No one will think they're yours. They'll be called bastards in every tavern from here to Dorne, and me? I'll be demeaned as a whore."

He was silent for a moment, trying to put together where that was coming from. He failed. "Sansa, what are you talking about? There's no doubt those three children are mine." There was a blank pause and dread began to fill him. "Aren't they?"

"How can you even ask me that?!" she said. "If my children weren't watching, I'd drown you!"

"Sorry," he said, meaning it. "I just don't understand what Shae's bastard would have to do with our children."

"Your bastard," she corrected. "Because everyone will look at a dwarf child, and believe it's yours. Then they'll look at those three splashing in the river right now. Who are not dwarves. Will they still believe that they're yours?"

He saw her point. Everyone believed he was a demon, an immoral imp, the half man. It was much more difficult to believe he had three "normal" children than thinking Sansa might have taken a lover. The poor fourteen year old girl who'd been forced to marry the demonic Lannister dwarf. No one would blame her. Especially if he had another child, this one a dwarf.

"It won't matter what people say," he said. "We know the truth."

"Okay," she said. "What happens when you're dead? And Robb has to inherit Casterly rock with every inhabitant of the Westerlands believing him illegitimate. How long will he hold Casterly Rock? Six months?"

He went pale as he considered what she was telling him. Quite possibly, when he died he'd be leaving his children to fight a war over the historic Lannister seat. And he knew damn well how costly wars were. If all three of his children survived it, it would be a miracle.

"Is that child yours?" she asked again. She couldn't resist.

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I had certainty, but I don't. He could be is all I can say."

"Oh seven hells, Tyrion!" she whispered. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he said, wrapping his arms around her best he could as she started crying into his shoulder.

"Oh Tyrion," she sighed. "I like my life. I like **_our_ **life, I don't want it to change."

"I know," he agreed. "I like it too."

* * *

**Arya**

She knocked on her sisters door. She'd seen Tyrion in the taproom, drinking ale in a manner which told her he was drowning his sorrows. Arya opened the door and found Sansa staring out of the window. It was late in the afternoon, the sun hanging low in the sky before setting.

"How are you?" she asked. Sansa sighed and shook her head. "Sorry. I guess that's a stupid question."

"I know what kind of man my husband is," Sansa said quietly. "I know he used whores. But this? Should I have expected something like this? Am I completely naive?"

"I'm sorry," Arya said, taking her sisters hand and squeezing it. She dropped her palm quickly as Arya didn't do comfort very well or often.

"What do I do?" she asked. "How do I… move past this? Accept it?"

"What if this Shae's lying?" Arya asked.

"She's not," Sansa said darkly. "I can see it on her face. And I know that Tyrion was… sleeping with her before we married. He lied to me. By omission, but he lied."

"Are you more annoyed by the bastard, or the fact that your husband slept with a whore?" Arya asked.

"Both," she said, letting a rueful smile appear on her lips. "I asked him, years ago, I asked him not to use whores. To my knowledge, he hasn't since."

"You do know your marriage is rather odd," Arya told her. "Don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, frowning.

"Noble men use whores so often it's cheaper to rent a room at a brothel. Tyrion doesn't. Most high born wives accept it, and are relieved once a few children have been born. They've done their duty."

"Was our mother like that?" Sansa asked.

"No," Arya said. "Of course not. But…"

"I know," she said, cutting her sister off. "I know that having love in an arranged marriage is unusual, and I didn't plan that. But here we are." She sighed, shook her head and smiled at her sister. "How are you? The baby?"

"I'm getting fat," she said simply. "I don't know what to do."

"Tyrion and I could foster the child," she suggested quietly. Arya blinked, thinking hard.

"I don't know what I want," she said. "I… wrote a message to Tom."

"The father I assume," Sansa said.

"Yes," Arya replied. "I don't want to make a decision, any decision until I talk to him.

"He's at least a month away," Sansa said. "I'm assuming."

"He is," she said. "But he'll write to me," she said with surety. "I know he will."

"He can read and write?" Sansa asked.

"Don't be patronising," Arya said. "Yes, he's lowborn, but he's not illiterate."

"Sorry," Sansa said. "I didn't mean… sorry." Arya shrugged. "What do you want from life, Arya?" Sansa asked. "I know you don't want to marry a lord or a noble, but I don't know what you _do_ want."

"I want to be free," she said simply. "I don't want to be tied down, I want to travel. Go to the free cities and explore Essos and the rest of the world."

"You'll love the baby when he or she is born," Sansa said. "It's a love you can't describe to someone who's not a mother. Once you are, then you know."

"Maybe," Arya said. "Forgive Tyrion," she added, the point of the conversation. "It happened before you."

"I know," Sansa said. "It's hard to forgive though."

* * *

**More soon, though I've been sucked into a book series, so it might be a few days before I get the chance to write the next chapter. Thanks for the reviews so far! They really let me know the good and bad points, and what characters you'd like to hear from. Thanks again.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Tyrion**

"Outside, now." Shae raised her eyebrows and put down the mug of ale she'd been drinking in the inns taproom. She followed Tyrion outside and walked a little way away from the inn, so their voices wouldn't carry.

"Shae, what are you doing to me?" he said, beyond angry.

"Hello, my lion."

"Don't call me that," he said. "Where'd you get the boy from?"

"He's my son," Shae said, running a hand through her hair. "Our son."

"Then why has it taken five years for you to come back to Westeros and announce it?" Tyrion said with distaste. "That child is not yours, or mine. How much did you have to pay for a five year old dwarf?"

He saw it coming, but didn't move quickly enough to avoid her hand slapping him.

"How dare you!" she said. "Not only a whore, but a liar too? You know me better than that."

"Did I ever know you?" he said. "Is he… mine?" he couldn't resist from asking. He needed to know.

"Of course. Why else would I be here?"

"Money," Tyrion said. "So you can go back to the free cities a wealthy woman. What happened to the generous money I gave you when you left Westeros?"

"It ran out," she said, at least being honest. "Tyrion, I still care for you, and I don't want to ruin your reputation, or your life. I'll go away quietly."

"Which makes me think that the boy isn't really mine. And you just want money."

"Is it worth the risk?" Shae asked simply. "You've got more than enough money. You own all the gold mines in Westeros. The Lannisters are so horribly rich. Just pay me and I'll leave."

"Shae, despite what anyone might tell you or call you, you never were a money grabbing whore. You were more than that."

"Do you know how hard it is?" she asked. "To raise a dwarf child in Pentos, where everyone considers you cursed. I can't even rent a room now. I can't do anything for even double the price. Triple. They see me with a dwarf at the market, and suddenly the price of grapes triples. They won't even sell me the Dornish wine now, I get left overs. Things that no one else wants. I don't want to disrupt your life or your family Tyrion, but I need more money. And I won't go back to selling myself."

He stood, breathing heavily not sure what to believe or what to do. "Or," he said slowly. "I could kill you and the boy, and get rid of the problem."

Almost before he finished speaking he found a knife to his throat, hands being pulled tightly behind his back. When did she get so lightning fast? "You could," she said. "If anyone could catch me." The knife started to cut into his skin and for the first time, he wondered if Shae was capable of killing him. He could feel a drop of his blood dripping down his throat. Yes, she probably was capable. "If I believed you were anything less than an honourable man, I'd cut your throat this second. But you are honourable. And I loved you once." She let him go, and he instantly put his hand to his throat. It wasn't bleeding much, and she hadn't cut through anything important, luckily.

"Why did you never tell me?" he asked urgently. "If that child is mine, why did you never tell me you were pregnant?"

"Because you were doe eyed over your new wife," she said sadly. "Even before I left I could see the way you looked at her. She wouldn't let you within ten feet of her at the time, and you still wanted her. I wouldn't tell you. I'd have felt pitied. And after a time, I saw that Sansa looked at you the same way. I cared for her. I wouldn't hurt her that way if I could avoid it."

"But now? She is hurting now, because of it."

"Now, I'm desperate," Shae said. "I would have come sooner, but the Narrow sea froze over during the harsh winter. I couldn't get here. I went to Casterly Rock, but you'd left. And I followed you here."

"Shae, I don't have money here," he said. "I have enough for travel expenses and some for when we arrive at Winterfell, but no more."

"Well then," she said smiling sweetly. "I'll just have to stay around for a bit longer, won't I?" Shae smiled and sauntered off back to the inn, leaving him cursing at the empty night.

"How did it go?" Sansa said, coming out of the darkness.

"Badly," Tyrion said. "She wants paying off, unsurprisingly."

"Mm," Sansa said. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to write to Bron, tell him to ride to Casterly Rock and get as much money as he can travel with safely. Then he can come up North."

"How long will that take?" Sansa asked.

"Three weeks? Almost a week to Casterly Rock, then another two weeks to get to Winterfell. He's a fast rider."

"So I have to put up with your bastard and your whore for nearly a month more? Until she can be paid off?"

"Sansa…"

"Don't," she said forcefully. Then she turned and went back to the inn, Tyrion following her.

* * *

**Maeri**

"They're coming back!" she hissed, jumping off the chair, Robb and Daeniel following suit. "Come on, help me push the chair back," Robb said. All three of them did, struggling under the weight. Soon it was back against the wall, and the three of them jumped back into their beds, pretending to be asleep.

"I think mama and dada are fighting," Robb said.

"They can't be fighting," Maeri said as if it were obvious. "They never fight. We fight," she added with a grin at her brothers in the darkness.

"Who was that woman?" Daeniel asked. "The one who arrived today?"

"I don't like her," Robb said. "She's got bad eyes."

"Robb! Shhhh!" Maeri hissed. They all quietened as the door to their room opened a crack and they knew their mother was checking on them. Pretending sleep, they closed their eyes tightly, waiting until the door closed.

"What now?" Daeniel asked.

"Go to sleep," Robb said. "Tomorrow we go to Winterfell!" They had the wonderful childish joy at the prospect.

* * *

**Sansa.**

She left the door to her room unbarred, not sure if she'd finished talking to Tyrion or wanted to argue again. But she knew he'd come to see her. It took maybe sixty seconds before the door opened, framing her husband as he stood there.

"Should I see if they have a spare room?"

"No," she said gently. "Sleep with me. But I don't want to be touched tonight."

"I love you, Sansa," he whispered.

"I know that," she said. "Shut the door." He did, still looking at her as his fingers rested on the wood of the door. "Just… for tonight lets not think of anything at all."

"That sounds perfect."

* * *

**More soon, including a Daenerys pov as requested.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Tyrion**

He awoke to find Sansa asleep and still next to him in bed. Well, that was progress. At least she hadn't vanished in the middle of the night. He quietly got dressed, making a decision. Before he left their bedroom, he pressed a gentle kiss to Sansa's forehead.

He abruptly moved through the inn and knocked on Shae's door. She opened it quickly, meaning she hadn't been asleep, but she looked bleary eyed and tired. She left her room, closing the door.

"If we argue, I don't want him to hear it," she said quietly.

"What's his name?" Tyrion asked, realising that he didn't know.

"Tywin."

He felt a thrill of revulsion go through him, especially at the memory of his father. He ignored it, with difficulty.

"Look, you're staying here," he said. "I am not going to bring you to Winterfell. You'll be taken care of."

"I want my money to keep me silent," she said.

"Don't you understand?" he asked. "You announced yourself not in only in front of my family, but some of my guards too. Word will already be spreading about my… bastard." He paused slightly just before the word. "There is no keeping this quiet now, Shae."

"Then why would you give me any money at all?" she asked.

"Because if that is my son, I want him taken care of," Tyrion said. "I'll never acknowledge him, even if I had proof he was mine. I can't, you know that. It could even lead to civil war. But I will see you both looked after."

"Thank you, Tyrion," she said sincerely. "Why won't you let me come to Winterfell today?"

"Because it's my wife's childhood home and I will not insult her by bringing you there."

"Your whore?" she said bitterly.

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "I'll cover your room expenses, but stay put. Bron will be here with your money in a couple of weeks. Three at most."

"Fine," she said. "Will I see you again?"

"I doubt it."

"Goodbye Tyrion," she said. She crouched down and gave him a hug, much to his surprise. "Thank you for helping me."

"I wish I could say it's been good to see you," he said, backing away.

"I didn't mean to disrupt your life, you know?"

"I do know. Goodbye Shae." She turned and closed the door, leaving Tyrion alone.

* * *

**Daenerys**

"Go away," she groaned, rolling over in bed. Her silk sheets were wonderfully comfortable and she didn't want to move.

"Your grace, I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but Bron is insisting to talk to you. He says it's important, concerning Lord Tyrion," one of her maids said. She was barely eleven years old, with jet black hair and Daenerys knew that she'd drawn the short straw, to wake the Queen up.

"Okay," Daenerys said. "Help me dress, then send him in."

"He's very impatient, your grace," the girl said.

"But I'm the Queen," she reminded the girl. "Get my grey dress with the green fringe."

It took twenty minutes for the Queen to be presentable with her white blonde hair brushed out of its tangles. She moved to her receiving room and sat down.

"Get two members of my Queens guard, then send him in." She wasn't frightened of Bron, but she was very well aware that he served Tyrion first, and herself second. She'd feel better if she was protected.

"My Queen," Bron said, bowing to her. She didn't speak, simply looked at him pointedly. He coughed, before disarming, dropping the sword and two daggers to the floor. No one was armed in the Queens presence, save the Queens guard.

"Sorry. Habit. And I've got to leave Kings Landing today. Now."

"Are you being the delivery boy?" Daenerys asked politely. "Taking money up North to pay off your masters whore?" Bron looked surprised and she took a moment of satisfaction in that. "I have my spies too," she said gently.

"With your permission, your grace, I'll be leaving the capital."

"I don't have any objection," Daenerys said. "Providing you wait for me to write a letter to deliver to Lord Tyrion."

"My Queen, I have to leave as soon as possible. I have to detour to Casterly Rock first."

"I'll give you the money you need," she said. "Double, for yourself. I need to write a letter."

"Of course," Bron said, annoyed at the wait, but pleased with the money she was offering him.

"Wait here," Daenerys said. She got up, and went to find parchment, a quill and some privacy while trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say.

She'd only written a few lines when the door opened and before she could even look up, she felt a kiss on her neck. "Daario," she said with a sigh of pleasure. She turned to him, her smile fading. "How is he?"

"I've just come from his chambers," Daario said. "He won't live out the month. Probably not the week."

"Oh no," she said, closing her eyes. "We need more time. Apart from how I feel for him personally, I can't get a replacement Hand of the Queen that quickly. Can we keep it quiet?"

"Of course," Daario said. "For a while. Not for ever."

"Is he awake?" she asked with concern.

"Drifting in and out of consciousness," Daario told her.

"I've got some letters to write, but then I'll be down to see Ser Barristan," she said.

"Get someone else to write them for you," Daario said.

"I can't," she said. "I need to write to Lord Tyrion and Grey worm at Dragonstone. See how he's dealing with the Baratheon children." She didn't trust anyone else to write to Grey Worm. He helped her win her kingdom back, the least he deserved was to have her spend the time to write a letter to him. Especially when he was keeping an eye on those wards she'd asked him to.

"Not children any longer," Daario reminded her. "You've got to be careful of Tommen and Shireen Baratheon. They're old enough to marry now, and could be dangerous."

"A bastard of incest and a disfigured girl couldn't challenge my throne," she said.

"Maybe not, but they could cause trouble," Daario said. "Just be wary."

"I will. Tomorrow," she said. "I'll see Ser Barristan presently."

"Why are you writing to Tyrion Lannister?"

"I… it doesn't matter," she said. "Go. Let me finish." He didn't press the point even though she knew he was curious. He kissed her briefly, then left, letting her write her letters. She had to hurry. If Ser Barristan was conscious, she needed to see him. Quickly sealing the letter, she gave it to Bron, then left her chambers to see the Hand of the Queen. For quite possibly the last time.

* * *

**Sorry for the long delay between chapters. Britain is currently having a month long heat wave, which makes it incredibly hard for me to be productive! Thanks for all those who are still reading and reviewing. More when it's written.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. I'm afraid I'm going away for a few days next week too, so the next chapter might take a lot longer than usual too. Sorry! Thanks for sticking with this story though.**

* * *

**Arya**

She was awoken by a tap on her window. Ignoring it, she rolled over, then heard it again, and again, very quickly and not in any rhythm at all. She opened the window, then ducked as a hail of black feathers came in with the squawking raven. She removed the scroll, quickly closing the window so the bird couldn't fly off, before she decided if she wanted to reply. She saw the handwriting and knew it was from Tom. In spite of what she'd told her sister, Tom hadn't been able to read and write until she'd taught him. So his words were very laboured and in a messy scrawl. The letter only had four words on it and she felt disappointment that he hadn't written more to her.

_I'm on my way._

Her heart pounded in her chest, with both fear and excitement. She didn't want Tom here. She didn't want him anywhere near her family, Winterfell or the complications that would arise from that. But on the other hand, the thought of seeing him again, the possibility of not dealing with her pregnancy alone… it was very enticing.

"Go on," she said to the raven, letting him fly without writing a letter. She knew there was no point. Once Tom decided he was going to do something, he would do it.

"Oh!" She let the letter drift to the floor as she clutched her stomach. She'd felt something. Not movement, not exactly. More like a flutter. Definitely a presence there. She felt both happy, and terrified. Oh, could the Gods help me, she thought to herself.

The wolf had been curled up on the floor and raised her head at Arya, seeing her so still, and sensing something happening. "I'm alright," she told the wolf. "I'm fine."

* * *

**Sansa**

She had Maeri in a tight grip as they rode towards Winterfell, making their way inch by slow inch. For today, she was putting aside her feelings towards Shae, and her bastard, and Tyrion. Right now, approaching Winterfell, it didn't matter. Ayra rode with Daeniel, and Robb was doing something between a walk and a run, trying to keep up with the admittedly slow horses.

"Are we far?" Tyrion asked, keeping his horse next to hers.

"No," she said. "I think it'll be over the next rise."

They were both silent, and Sansa knew she was tense, with having no idea why.

"Sansa?" Tyrion said. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I don't know why I feel like this."

"Do you want to go ahead of the train?" he asked. She looked at him and felt a rush of love for him. She knew what he was offering her, the chance to see her old home alone, before she had to talk to anyone else.

"Mama?" Maeri asked, looking up at Sansa.

"Do you want to go and fight… I mean play with your brothers?"

"Yes!" she said eagerly, wriggling to get down.

"Robb!" Sansa called, putting her daughter on the ground. "Look after your sister."

"I don't need looking after!" Maeri said indignantly.

"Of course you don't," Sansa said with a smile. Maeri proceeded to chase her brother through the people, carriages and horses. Sansa felt a moments fear that they might get crushed, but knew it was pointless worrying. Her twins would do whatever they wanted, no matter what any adults told them.

"Go," Tyrion said with a smile.

"Come with me," she said. "Please."

"But what about…"

"Forget whoever is staying at that inn," she said firmly. "Come with me."

He didn't argue. They sped their horses away from the train and up the hill, alone. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the top. As she did, the countryside ahead of her parted to show her Winterfell. Her first view of her home in more than seven years.

It looked just the same. No smoke rising from the towers, no collapsed buildings, nothing wrong with it at all. As she'd suspected, the stonework hadn't burned. It might be a bit scorched, but from this distance she couldn't tell. She sat looking at it, waiting for something to jump out at her, something different. But apart from the lack of noise, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"It looks fine," she said. "It looks like it always did."

"Yes," he agreed gently. "It does. Are you okay?"

"I am," she agreed. "I expected it to be ruins. To look so different to the home I grew up in. It doesn't."

He smiled at her, then turned as they heard hoof beats. Over the rise came Arya, with Daeniel still harnessed to the saddle.

"Oh," she said gently, looking at the old castle. "It's just the same."

"Let's go," Tyrion said gently, thier horses trotting on towards the old castle.

* * *

**Tyrion**

_Someone's been here._ They're dismounting in Winterfells courtyard, and he knew that someone had been here, rebuilding since the sack of the castle. The wooden gates had been rebuilt, the stables were shockingly new, even though there weren't any horses there, other than their own. It didn't feel abandoned either, though neither Sansa nor Arya seemed to have noticed. Tyrion felt on edge, and he kept checking that all three of their children were around and safe.

"Sansa," he said quietly. She heard something in his tone and turned towards him. "I think someone's already here," he said.

"Why?" she asked, not discounting him, but curious.

"It doesn't feel abandoned," he said. Sansa's eyes flicked to the guards and he nodded, knowing what she was thinking. Tyrion ordered the guards to have a look around the castle, to make sure it was safe, before looking at his children. There were a couple of mounds of snow that sat in the shadows of the walls, which hadn't yet melted in the Spring sunshine. All three of them were having a snowball fight, while Arya watched them, a smile on her face.

"You could have sent a raven." Everyone turned to see Bran sitting on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Bran looked older, sixteen now. He was most definitely a man, not the boy Sansa had left at Winterfell. But it truly was him.

"We didn't know there was anyone here to talk to," Tyrion said in the very loud silence which ensued. Sansa looked completely blank her face white with shock as she looked at her brother, and the children decided this stranger wasn't nearly as exciting as continuing their loud snowball fight.

"Why aren't you dead?" she asked bluntly.

Bran smiled at her. "It's good to see you too, sis." Tyrion turned as Arya ran inside the castle. Within about a minute, she appeared on the balcony, throwing her arms around her brother.

"I thought you were dead!" she said, tightening her grip on Bran.

"Not yet," he said with a smile. He hugged his sister tightly, then Sansa seemed to unfreeze herself from her shock and she left the courtyard, hurrying up to the balcony to greet her brother properly.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and especially reviewing.**


	12. Chapter 12

**So I owe everyone a massive apology. I never intended to leave this fic alone for two months, and I'm feeling very guilty. So sorry to leave you hanging! This chapter is in the M rated vein, and if anyone is still reading this story, thank you so much for your patience!**

* * *

**Sansa**

"I can't believe Bran's alive," she said for probably the hundredth time. She was probably boring Tyrion to tears, but he said nothing. "Can you help me with my laces?"  
She spoke casually, but there was silence in the room, and she knew what he was thinking. She'd always had her maid undo her dress since Shae returned. This was the first time she'd asked him to help her.

"Of course," he said. She sat on a stool in front of her dressing table, so when Tyrion started loosening her gown, he was the same height as her. She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers on the nape of her neck. She knew he moved slower than necessary and she smiled to herself at the feeling of his hands sliding down her spine. Her dress was completely unfastened, but he didn't move away from her.

"Sansa…" His voice was low and full of desire. She knew that tone very well after more than five years of marriage. She turned on the stool and looked at him, reaching out and resting her palm on his face. Tyrion turned his head and kissed her palm gently. She let go of him, and shrugged out of her gown until it was pooling at her waist. His eyes drew downwards over her body for a long minute before his eyes flicked back to hers.

"Let me undress you," she said quietly. His lips twitched in a smile as he walked closer to her. She unfastened his tunic, one button at a time, letting her palms press against him. He wore a thin undershirt but she could feel the warmth of his skin under her hands. She pushed his tunic to the floor and then pulled his undershirt off, so he wore nothing but his britches. Trailing her hand down his chest slowly, she smiled as he shivered. Her hand paused at his stomach for a moment, stroking gently, then her face broke out into a wide smile.

"Get in bed," she said firmly. He smiled at her, his eyes flicking to her naked breasts for a long moment.

"After you," he said.

"No," she replied. "I want you in bed. Now." He did what she asked, only stopping to take off his britches. He watched intently as she stood up, getting out of the dress, letting it fall to the floor. She let him look at her, enjoying the way his eyes flicked over her figure, before lying on the bed next to him. Cradling his head, she kissed him deeply, moaning as his hands tightened around her body, holding him close.

Their hands explored each others familiar bodies with increasing urgency and desire. Sansa rolled onto her back, pulling Tyrion with her as he licked her nipple delicately.

"Tyrion, I…"

"I know," he murmured. He stroked her for a moment before pushing himself inside her, making her groan with satisfaction. She clutched his hair tightly as he brought them both to the brink of pleasure shockingly quickly. She moaned in ecstasy as her climax powered through her, feeling Tyrion come just a few moments after her. It was over in less than five minutes, and when they parted, Sansa curled herself around her husband, wanting him close to her. Their hands groped for each other in the darkness, until they found soothing places on the other.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I don't know why," he said. "And I love you too." He kissed her brow before closing his eyes, drifting into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in weeks.

* * *

**Two weeks later.**

**Tyrion.**

"You look exhausted," he said to Bron, who'd just arrived at Winterfell. "Have some wine. It doesn't have a good name, but it's old and delicious." Bron poured himself a goblet, taking a deep drink before handing over the bag of gold, destined for Shae's pocket. "Thank you," he said bitterly.

"That's not all I've got for you either," Bron said. He pulled out a scroll, albeit a battered one and handed it over. Tyrion looked at the wax seal and swallowed uncomfortably.

"I don't want to open this," Tyrion said quietly. "Do I?"

"Probably not," Bron said.

"What does it say?"

"I haven't read it," Bron said.

"That wasn't my question," Tyrion said astutely. "What's happening in King's Landing?"

"Barristan Selmy is dying. "I don't know, he might be dead already. So the Queen…"

"Needs a new hand," Tyrion finished. He sighed heavily. "I can't. I can't drop everything and go to Kings Landing. I have a family. I can't leave."

"Won't," Bron corrected. "If you don't do it when the Queen asks politely, she might insist in ways that would be… uncomfortable."

"I know," Tyrion said. "Why would she want me, anyway? She doesn't like me. She never has. She should give it to one of her favourites."

"I imagine that's why she wants you," Bron said. "Keep an eye on you in Kings Landing, while the Stark girls quietly sit at home playing house."

"If she thinks that neither Sansa nor Arya could cause mischief when left alone, she's underestimating the Stark bloodline," Tyrion said darkly. "I can't be the Hand again. Not now."

"You can't afford not to," Bron said. "She has the power to take everything from you if she chooses." Tyrion sighed heavily, knowing that his friend was right. He would have to go south to Kings Landing. Whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

**More soon. (I hope!)**


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